


Please Mind The Doors

by Hekatonkheires



Category: Original Work
Genre: Content approved by SCAR, M/M, Omorashi, Piss, Shotacon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28961142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekatonkheires/pseuds/Hekatonkheires
Summary: Eleven-year-old Adam is desperate to pee on the train to school, and gets a lot more than he bargained for.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35
Collections: Sin Corps





	Please Mind The Doors

Adam left the house late. Only by a few minutes, in the grand scheme of things. But that wasn't saying much, since his phone battery had died in the night so his alarm hadn't gone off and he'd only got out of bed fifteen minutes before he had to be on the platform to catch the train into town for school. He'd yanked on his clothes and grabbed a cereal bar, and then he'd shot out the door.

Why had this had to happen on a Thursday? Thursday was the only day when Daddy had to leave early for his morning shift, while Mummy would have got in just after midnight so she'd have to sleep in to recover, hence why she hadn't woken him up. Thursday was the day when Adam was trusted to sort out his own morning routine, like a grown-up, and he'd _ruined_ it by not charging his phone. He couldn't tell his parents: they wouldn't be cross, but they definitely wouldn't trust that he was mature enough to do this in future. They'd make him wait until he was in senior school - which, since Adam was eleven, was really only next year. But it seemed like a long way off.

So, no, he hadn't had time to comb his chestnut hair: he would have to fingercomb it on the train. And, no, he hadn't had time to go to the toilet, even though he'd woken up with a full bladder, like always. It just hadn't seemed important when he was yanking on his school uniform in a blind panic. Maybe, if he was really quick, he might dash into the gents' on the platform...

But he saw his train pulling in as he ran towards the little village station, and he put on an extra burst of speed out of fear. Thankfully, the guard caught sight of him and held up his hand. Sam McInnes wouldn't let the train go without him. Adam felt a wave of gratitude towards Sam, who was blond and a little plump, and always very nice to him.

"Overslept?" Sam asked mildly as Adam hurtled up to him.

"Yes! Thanks!" He scrambled aboard with a sigh of relief. He had no idea that Sam was watching the way his school trousers clung to his tight little arse.

OK, well, he was on the train. That was the important bit. He was on the train, he was dressed in his uniform with all the correct parts, and he had his bag. He had a moment of panic when he realised he wasn't wearing his tie, before remembering that he'd put it in his bag the afternoon before on his way home. Right, OK, everything was going to be fine. He rummaged in the front compartment of his bag and found the cereal bar he'd hastily shoved into it. He couldn't concentrate on school if he was hungry, after all.

Once he'd eaten the cereal bar, he felt a bit better. He also found a comb in the depths of his bag, though he didn't remember putting one in there, so he could make himself presentable. And he'd had a shower last night, so he shouldn't smell too horrible. Everything was under control.

Not long after this, his full bladder began to make itself known. Adam was uncomfortably reminded that he hadn't been to the toilet since last night. There was now nearly twelve hours of urine built up inside him, and he really needed to go. He'd repressed it while panicking about everything else, but now that had faded, he was rapidly realising just how much he needed to go. And unfortunately, this was one of the old pacer trains, the kind that was practically a bus designed to run on tracks, now only found on little country lines like the one that served Adam's village. That meant that it lacked a toilet.

You'll just have to hold it, Adam told himself firmly. You're eleven, nearly in secondary school: you're big enough to hold your wee-wee. You're not a baby who jiggles about and cries that he'll wet himself.

He wished he could sit down, but the train had already been through several stops before reaching his village, and there were no seats left. If he'd been sitting, he could have crossed his legs to help himself hold it. As he was, he pressed his slim thighs together and tried to think of something other than the pressure in his bladder. What lessons did he have today? Had he done his homework for all of them? Yes, of course: he always did. His parents checked through his planner with him, just like the school recommended.

The train ride from Adam's station into what he thought of as "town", though in fact it was only a large suburb, took roughly half an hour, up to forty minutes if there had been delays. Ten minutes into his journey that morning, Adam was in difficulties. His bladder was achingly full, and his palms were sweating.

God, I have to pee so badly! he thought, jiggling from foot to foot. How am I going to hold it all the way until I get to the station? Ohh, I'm so full...

His bladder felt like it was pushing against the waistband of his grey school trousers, and he discreetly undid the button to ease the pressure. It didn't really help. Why, why hadn't he taken a minute to use the toilet this morning? Sam would surely have held the train for him...As soon as he thought the word "toilet", it was all he could imagine. He could vividly envision himself in the family bathroom, unzipping his trousers and pulling his little pre-pubescent willy out of his pants to direct a torrential stream of wee-wee into the toilet. The relief that would bring!

No, you'll have to wait until you get to the station, he reminded himself. But then he just thought of doing the same: dashing into the gents' loos in the station, already unzipping in desperation. Normally he used a stall, being slightly shy of the men who casually pulled out their huge adult members, but he fantasised about peeing a forceful stream into a urinal for the first time.

This wasn't helping!

"Aaahhh, oh god," he whispered under his breath, feeling another wave of desperation wash over him. He grabbed his little penis through the pocket of his school trousers, praying that nobody noticed. He couldn't get away with just squeezing his legs together, he was too desperate - he had to hold himself so that he wouldn't leak!

Holding his penis helped soothe the urge a bit. He still shuffled from foot to foot and pressed his thighs together, trapping his hand and his soft little willy between them. He felt hot and embarrassed, and he kept looking around nervously to check whether anybody had noticed his predicament. Nobody seemed to be looking at him: most were absorbed in a newspaper or a laptop or a phone, or the blurred scenery.

The train slowed as they came to another station. They were approaching the town, maybe fifteen minutes away, and this was a major suburb, so a flood of people got on. No, don't think of floods! There was now definitely no chance of him getting a seat. There were several people around him now, all grown-ups, and he prayed to be beneath their notice. He tried not to wriggle, but he couldn't help it, the urge to pee was so overwhelming!

He fidgeted and squirmed, the hand in his pocket firmly clamped around his urinary organ. The rattling movement of the train wasn't helping, either. It wasn't a smooth ride, and all the bumping jostled his overfull bladder and made him cringe with the fight to hold on. A couple of droplets of pee leaked out, and he squeezed harder. He realised with a bolt of terror that if this went on any longer, he really might wet himself!

Not five minutes later, at another brief stop, somebody stumbled against him as they got on board. Adam couldn't stop it - a squirt of pee shot out of his willy to dampen his underwear.

"No, no!" he whispered frantically under his breath, hoping it wouldn't seep through his school trousers. He abandoned the flimsy cover of holding his penis through his pocket, and grabbed his crotch outright with both hands. He could barely hold on! The force of all the urine inside him was overwhelming, unbearable. He was so full, his bladder was aching, his little hairless penis was throbbing from how hard he was holding it. He felt like he was going to piss himself at any moment!

He was barely conscious of the crush of passengers around him: he was totally focussed on getting through the remains of this train journey without wetting himself. How much longer would he have to hold it? Ten minutes? Five? He didn't dare let go of his willy to check the time.

You just have to hold it until you get to the station, he reminded himself. There were toilets on the platform - but weren't they the ladies' toilets? Oh, he didn't care: he would use the women's toilets if it meant he didn't wet himself. He was completely desperate to pee!

Even through his tight, grip, another spurt of wee-wee escaped his penis, longer this time. Adam moaned unhappily. All this squeezing of his willy had made him get halfway stiff, but it wasn't enough to hold back the torrent of urine inside him. He was losing control!

Another long spurt of urine. He was pissing himself! All Adam could hear was the rattling of the train over the tracks, but underneath that he caught the faint hissing sound as pee streamed into his underpants. He looked down in horror to find a noticeable wet patch soaking through his grey trousers.

If only he had something to pee into! Like a bottle, or anything that might hold all the pee sloshing around in his bladder - wait. He might have one! He kept an old plastic Evian bottle in his bag and filled it up from the water fountains around school when necessary. His mother might have taken it out to run through the dishwasher, or he might have left it in his desk yesterday; but there was a good chance it was in there.

Adam bent and fumbled frantically in the bag at his feet, undoing the zip with one hand. His other hand was pressed between his tightly-clenched thighs, desperately squeezing his little dick. Please let me have a bottle in this bag, and please let it be empty, he prayed.

After long seconds, his fingers closed on an oblong plastic shape. The bottle! He drew it out, and found that it _was_ almost empty, except for an inch or so of water in the bottom. He'd never been so happy to see it before.

But before he could pee in it, he would have to get out his dick. In a crowded train full of strangers! Adam's well-brought-up nature quailed. What if somebody saw him?

Be practical, he told himself. What's more embarrassing: peeing in a bottle in public, or wetting yourself? Even as he hesitated, another wave of desperation washed over him, and he had to stay bent over, clutching at his little penis through his trousers, as another spurt of pee leaked through his fingers. He was absolutely going to wet himself if he didn't get it out now!

Even though he was desperate for relief, it took an effort of will to let go of his penis so he could unzip his trousers in one fast yank. He was teetering on the very edge of losing control. He unscrewed the bottle cap with sweaty fingers, and dropped it in his pocket. His little briefs weren't the kind with an opening in the front, so he had to plunge his hand into them - and then grab tight hold of his bare penis as he lost another long, hissing spurt of urine. He rocked back and forth for a long moment, gritting his teeth and willing his bladder to hang on - but no, it was coming, he was bursting!

Adam felt the dam burst. He was holding his little willy, but more was pee coming out - he was peeing full force into his briefs! He was wetting himself! He yanked his little half-stiff penis out, spraying a stream of urine onto the floor of the train carriage, and crammed the head into the narrow opening of the bottle with nerveless, fumbling fingers. He shuddered and gasped as he watched the plastic bottle filling up with yellow pee, flowing helplessly out of his boyish willy. He was too young to think to pull back his foreskin, so he just urinated through it. Oh, god, the relief felt incredible! His aching bladder released more than he'd ever realised he was capable of holding. Adam moaned under his breath and closed his eyes for a long moment.

People around him must have noticed what was going on just under their noses, but nobody said anything. Too embarrassed, probably. Adam was embarrassed too, but his shame was currently overwhelmed by the pleasure of relieving his bladder at last. His whole body tingled with it as more wee-wee gushed into the bottle. 

Unfortunately, that relief was about to be cut short. His plastic bottle wasn't very big - only half a litre, so it would fit in his bag with the multitude of other school stuff, and not be too heavy when it was full. Well, Adam's bladder wasn't very big either, since he was only eleven. But more and more wee-wee was shooting out of his little willy, and the bottle was filling up and up...

It would overflow, Adam realised. His wee-wee had reached the part of the bottle where it narrowed towards the neck, and he didn't feel quite so full any more, but the stream wasn't tapering off.

"Oh no, oh no," he chanted under his breath. "Stop weeing! Stop!"

He tried to stem the stream of urine, but it was no use - it lessened as he clamped down hard, but a thin trickle just kept coming out of his willy. Adam thought desperately for what else he might have that he could pee into. There were no other bottles, no containers at all. He again fumbled through his school bag one-handed, finding his pencil case, his exercise books, his homework - he couldn't wee on that! - and his swimming bag, all ready with his little swimming trunks, hat and towel. There was a plastic bag for his wet swimming costume - but it had little holes in the bottom, so that was no use!

The bottle in his hand continued to fill up. Trying to hold back the flow was starting to hurt - and then it just didn't work any more, and the trickle grew again to a stream. The towel was the only absorbent thing in his bag. It would have to do. He let go of his willy, relying on the bottle's neck to keep it in place, and yanked the towel out of his bag,

Adam was again seized with two kind of potential embarrassment. If he kept his willy in the bottle, the bottle would overflow on the floor of the train, no question, and it would be like he'd wet himself. But he couldn't stem the flow of urine to transfer his willy from the bottle to the towel - he'd definitely pee on the floor some more. And what about the open bottle of urine in his hand?

Adam steeled himself. He drew the water bottle away from the head of his willy - his willy kept peeing a strong stream of urine - it spattered on the floor for half a second before he jammed the soft mass of his wadded-up towel over his crotch. Again, the adrenaline left his heart pounding and his breathing shaky as he peed full-force into the towel. He was terrified that he would totally saturate the towel, but there couldn't be _that_ much left in him...could there? Adam envisioned himself holding a sopping wet towel in front of him as he peed and peed all over the floor.

But after a few seconds, the stream of urine began to taper off. Adam breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't be able to use the towel after swimming of course - he might 'accidentally' drop it in the perpetually-flooded and highly chlorinated showers before anybody noticed the smell.

The flow of pee had finally slowed to a trickle. Adam started to think about how he was going to get out of this with what was left of his dignity. He held the towel in front of him with his left arm and fished the top out of his pocket with his free hand. It felt really weird to put the cap on a bottle of his own pee - while he was still weeing a little into the towel! - but once he'd put it gingerly in his bag, he felt better to have a hand free.

He adjusted the wadded-up towel as the last droplets dribbled out of his willy, and realised to his utter mortification that his half-stiffy had turned into a full erection. There was something about making wee-wee into the soft, warm towel pressed all over his crotch that was so...satisfying. Nice.

So now he had to get the towel into the plastic bag without showing the whole train carriage that he had a hard-on pointing straight out from his body. Wonderful. At least his shirt was just long enough to cover it if he bent forwards, though there was still the risk of exposure. Why did he have to get a stiffy now, of all times?

A look out the window at the passing industrial suburbs suggested there were about ten minutes before Adam's stop. Had all that urgency and desperation really only taken him twenty minutes? It had felt like an hour! He readied the plastic bag, and prepared to take the towel away from his erection.

Unbeknownst to Adam, however, his little display had not gone unobserved, nor unappreciated. And his 'admirer' was now in the perfect place to take advantage of that lovely little pre-pubescent hard-on and tight arse: right behind him...

**Author's Note:**

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End file.
